Alberta
by SoaringGryphonProductions
Summary: The group of survivors gets a new ally in their posse in the form of a young Canadian refugee. Contains TallahasseeXOC. This is my first story for this awesome movie so please rate and review KINDLY. I own no rights to this movie.


**Zombieland- 'Alberta' **

**Chapter 1- O Canada**

I come from a country many consider to be a refuge for some Americans while some don't even want to acknowledge its existence. That's not the case this time around. That's right people, I'm from Canada. These days, there's almost no refuge and very few safe havens for those that were not affected by the virus. In this sick, sad world where greater numbers of human beings have turned into fucked-up, cannibalistic abominations, you're always on the move and constantly watching you're back.

I guess you can say I'm one of those few who knew something like this was bound to happen. Sure I was laughed at before this catastrophe began for making necessary precautions, but to those who made fun of me in the past let me ask you guys this, who's laughing now, assholes? It's rather striking how this screwed up world turned into a complete and utter shithole. Now to anyone who's still a living being, all I can tell you is be prepared. This is unlike anything you might have experienced in your life.

Well, here I am now; Havre, Montana, a good humble city and symbol of friendship between the US and Canada that turned into a 'ghost town' overnight. I checked myself into a seedy motel room at the border town. The lobby was completely empty, not a single human being in sight. I rang the bell to get some service, but I received it in the form of the hotel manager with blood red eyes and bits of human flesh and bone between his yellowed teeth, probably from the last human that tried to rent a room.

He snarled and lashed at me with is blood-covered fingers. Black blood was dripping profusely from his mouth, and his body was a bloody mess. I stepped back a few and noticed a two of the maid staff looking ravenous and ready to tear me limb from limb for an evening dinner. It was time for me to get my hands dirty, and I had to react quickly. They were too close for me to shoot them with my 1887 Lever-action Bootleg at my hips, now I had to get my hands dirty. I unsheathed my sword to defend myself.

My sword was my main fighting tool when it comes to dealing with the undead aside from my shotgun. Unlike a gun, you don't have to worry about wasting ammunition, especially not with this in your hands. My sword is forged in the Xiphos style. It is 26 inches long with a 19 inch 5160 spring steel blade and weighs 2 lbs 6oz. It's got the right weight for all kinds of tasks, from breaking down doors and locks to cracking open human skulls. With this, I keep a sharpening stone to keep it battle ready at all times.

To those needing tips, the thing about zombies is that you have to kill them quickly. Zombies are like a mix of snakes and wolves. They hunt in packs but once you chop off the head, the body dies. I started with the maid attacking from the entrance. I used my sword to swing at her chest to knock her back. She let out an unholy screech before I made the killing blow. I looked behind her and noticed the other. I used the pommel of my sword to hit her in the stomach and turned around to split her head open.

Blood and brains splattered all over. The only one left was the manager. He was going to attack from behind, but I was ready for him. I felt the blade of my sword go clean through his neck. He fell backwards with his head rolling around on the blood-stained carpet. I cleaned the blood and guts off my weapon with a nearby towel and took a key off the counter. These days, don't expect to get a lot sleep. One has to be watchful of their surroundings because zombies don't sleep. They are relentless.

I had been traveling for three days, and I needed some time to settle down. Although I only had a few hours of sleep, I could hears the screams of another unfortunate victim. Sadly, it's best you don't make yourself too inviting to any humans that you run into. Don't let their friendly faces fool you, there might be something on you that they'd want like weapons or supplies. Although that night went by without incident, I was still on my own in this world where the sight of a human is a reason to keep your guard up.

It is also good to have survival tools with you. There will come times when you will not be able to find shelter. To that, one of the items I bring along is a bushcraft knife. It probably won't kill the undead, maybe if you hit it in the right spot but that is beside the point. Strapped to a sheath on my belt is a special knife, an EnZo 95 Trapper. My shotgun and sword can only go so far. Sometimes you need something smaller to get tasks done like skinning meat or making feather sticks for a fire to keep warm at night.

When at some point I lose my sword or my gun might jam, it is good to have some sort of back-up. For those situations, I have The Badger, my combat dagger. With a vicious double-edge blade and D2 tool steel on top of it, this knife has saved my life countless times. It is a 1/4 inch tang knife, and is a great companion in a fight and preparing food. I also carry a CZ-75 SP-01 pistol just in case. But the one thing it is good to have is a steady supply of water. It will save your life better than any weapon.

I packed up my things the next morning and left Havre. I was hoping to find another place to settle down or even a group of survivors. I walked along the edge of US Route 87 South. The roads were completely blocked up with abandoned and burning cars. I even saw a crashed airplane in the middle of the highway. There was no doubt, this was Hell on Earth. I made it a plan to try to reach the Colorado state line by any means necessary. With my truck full of supplies and my weapons at the ready, I continued on.

The only friend I have is my pick-up, a Toyota Tacoma TRD on 33 inch all-terrains. This pick-up has kept me from being a zombie's dinner since my journey began. The trunk holds everything from weapons and munition to water and food. My weapons and tools include a short war axe, a Falci Italian Boy's Axe, a spear with a forged Aldo 1075 steel head, a Spartan Blades Ares, the Gage Custom Knives Single Hand Gladius 2, a flanged steel mace, and finally the Maxpedition large and medium fishbelly knives.

Other than my bootleg shotgun, my firearms include an AK-103 assault rifle, a SIG SG552 Commando, a Swiss K31 rifle, and a French MAS-36 rifle. I also store my food and water supplies with all my weapons. Now I can't lug all my weapons as I am only 5'8 and 162lbs. I was driving down the highway seemingly aimless. It is best in these times to keep moving. I am thankful for my truck otherwise this trip would be a lot tougher than it already is. That was until my faithful truck started to stall. This did not look good.

I looked under the hood to see that the battery died. I had the jumper cables ready, but some of the burned-out cars on the road were not going to be much help. The midday sun was beating on my back. I looked off in the distance to see if there was anyone coming. Luckily, I did not see any zombies around. I still had to keep my guard up. Nothing seemed to be coming, and night was approaching. I went into my truck and rested for the night. The next morning, I was woken up by the sound of a car coming.

It's best in these drastic times that you carry anything you need to survive and nothing extra. So travel light when you're moving. Off in the distance, I could hear a car coming down the highway. I first thought my mind was playing tricks on me until I looked behind me. It was a black Cadillac Escalade with a white, Nascar-style '3' painted on the side. It had a snowplow blade attached to the front and was smashing anything that got in its way. I stood my ground as it seemed the driver spotted me.

It was a well-muscled man in his early forties wearing a leather jacket and a cowboy hat. I stood firm, and poised as our eyes met. He slowly pulled out a lever action Mare's Leg from his side while I had my 12 gauge shotgun. As I stepped forward, he aimed the rifle at my head and I brought my weapon tucked close to my waist. I sighed and held out my thumb to signal that I needed help. He seemed obliged and probably didn't see me as a threat. He tilted his head as if to say 'get in'. I turned down his offer.

"I got a truck, I just need a jump-start is all," I informed him, he popped open the hood of his Cadillac and I wired the cables to jump start my truck again. Now I wondered how much longer she will last. I hope it will be the next few hundred miles. I hope this guy doesn't try to pull my leg for my supplies. There is enough food and water in the trunk to last at least two months. It has been a month and half now. I needed to start looking for supplies soon. Maybe these guys and gals can help.

I put my shotgun back in the holster and headed to my truck. Thankfully I wasn't alone on the journey. There was a thin young man with curly brown hair and two other girls, "Thanks I owe you one," I said to him. He said nothing back and inspected me. He looked down at my steel-toe boots up to my tight-fitting snakeskin leather pants and stopping at the tattoos inked on my upper arm. He didn't trust me and I didn't trust him, but I needed a ride. He was probably the only one for the next few miles.

As I closed the car door, he laid down the ground rules, "Let's get one thing straight, I don't care who yah are or what yah doing here, I ain't easy tah git along with so if yah do anything to piss me off, I'll leave yah for dead, that simple," He warned. I should take his words seriously. This was a man who knew what he was doing. It was probably luck which saved me from getting a bullet in my brain. As I was about to head back to my Tacoma, he started with a little conversation, "So...where yah from, Sugah?"

"Alberta," I responded. The man looked at me as if to say 'are you shitting me?'. I nodded to a 'yes' to his reaction, "yeah...I'm Canadian," After I said that, I was slightly afraid that he would break off this slim partnership and throw me out because not everybody has a soft side for Canadians. I looked behind me to see that I wasn't alone with him for the trip. There was a skinny guy in the backseat with two girls. One appeared to be a little younger than me and the other looked to be finishing up elementary school.

"Canada, eh? Well, ain't that somethin'?" He said, scratching his head, "tell yah what, why don't you follow behind us? In case the Caddy dies, we can all bunk with you," it seemed like a good idea. This guy seemed to be one of the men left that doesn't want to eat me. Then again, having him point a Mare's Leg at me, and me pointing a bootleg shotgun at him is not how I would imagine making friends. I have to my guard up on my supplies. If I can truly trust these guys, I will learn to share with them. Not easy.

"So you're from Alberta, huh? I heard Canada's great this time of year, actually...I never heard it, it was the first time I said it," said the man the driver referred to as 'Columbus'. I just smiled a light smile, and patted him on the shoulder. He seemed likable too, but warming up to the other driver named 'Tallahassee' was going to take time and I had a lot. I found a group to stick with which is always a good thing. As a certain someone said in a favorite movie of mine, 'we stay together, we survive'.


End file.
